The Scent of White Plums
by deilethereal
Summary: What would each of the gang’s lives be if they hadn’t met each other?


Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is not my property

Scent of White Plums

A cool summer dawned, evidently welcoming a day's stroll. Kaoru planned a lunch at the restaurant in town they used to past their time and the meal was quite a cheer. Yahiko and Sanosuke carelessly dug in their plates as she nagged at them and Megumi laughed around.

Kenshin silently ate his meal, a silence broken by some chuckles and smiles to make his presence felt. Yet his mind, though baffled at the idea, is somewhere else, drifting uncontrollably as though reaching a part of him he had kept shut for a long while. Even as they were walking home, at Yahiko and Kaoru's noises - such sounds were unheard from his ears.

He was in a deep thought, his head bowed low enough for him to see his feet moving in succession with the person in front of him. The oblivion he succumbed was gently broken by the fragrance of a somewhat familiar scent.

'Kenshin?' Kaoru asked as she noticed him stop. 'What's the matter?'

'That smell.' Kenshin muttered turning to the direction were a few plum trees grown by the roadside. Kenshin stared. He closed his eyes.

He knew that smell. It was the silent memory from his past he had kept shut since. The scent grew stronger as if returning from its buried chambers. Kenshin opened his eyes. He felt lying on a mattress. A woman was kneeling near him, preparing some tea, pouring an ample to a dainty cup. He sat down and the woman turned to him.

'Kenshin.' her brown eyes glimmered. She went to his side and placed a hand on his forehead. The scent - it came from her. She offered him the cup. 'This will make you feel better.'

He took it and the woman stood up walking towards a door and slid it open showing the view from the outside. There was a small piece of land planted with rows of crops, each meticulously aligned with each other. She picked up a hand shovel that was lying nearby and went towards a patch of vegetation. Kenshin placed the cup aside and followed her. He had seen that place before. He knew that place.

She pulled out a radish from the soft ground. 'I think these are ready for the market.' She spoke as though she had known him since. 'Shall we bring them tomorrow?'

§

Kenshin carried with each hand a basket full of their crops; his sword was securely tied on his waist. The woman took with her a smaller basket and her purse. They reached town and headed for the market.

Mid-afternoon it was when they had finished with their merchandise. It was a good trade and they were ready to return. 'This is such a nice place to earn a living.' The woman started as they walked pass the residential houses of the town.

'Yes.' Kenshin murmured stopping at the sight of an abandoned doujo across the street. The gate looked brittle, planks falling apart and posts almost near to giving up their support, as what years of desertion had brought. The sign board was still there but the markings were faded for someone their distance to read.

'It used to be a school for a sword art to protect people.' The woman paused for some thoughts. 'Kamiya Kasshin, I think, but the students rebelled against the principle and their sensei was forced to leave.' She continued. 'Since then, criminals were rumored to have lived in that place.'

He nodded. 'Let's go.'

'Home?' she asked.

Kenshin looked at her then shifted his gaze towards the doujo. 'Yes.'

§

There was no need to build a fire at the furnace; the humid temperature was enough to fill the room with warmth. They had just finished their meal and it was not yet late for bed. The woman was doing chores; Kenshin sat on a corner observing her. He turned his gaze to the sword in front of him, his sword that protects. Or perhaps this was just some ideal he formed himself. What was the basis again? Doubts passed his mind and he started to remove its sheath.

A soft hand came in the way and he stopped. It was hers. She took the sword from him and placed it at a corner of the room. Silently sitting herself behind him, she rested her head on his shoulder. He could smell the scent he already remembered from where.

'Am I not your sheath to hold you?' she whispered. Kenshin put his arms around her shoulders. He felt comfort and happiness with her beside him but it was something he knew he too felt in the presence of one other.

Who they were he can't remember; a void in which he cannot understand. There were instances he thought it was from a dream. Or perhaps a part of himself. What it was he knew it was pushing itself to be known, recognized, just as what this presence has done. He did not know; he did not want to figure out, yet. Not now, for what he feels was nothing but peace and contentment.

He tugged her closer to him. '...you are.'

§

The market was busy as usual; they were selling their crops' last harvest and sold all of it by noon. They have decided to go to a restaurant there for lunch and it was already mid-afternoon when they finished their meal. Kenshin stood by the entrance to breathe in some air; she was having a chat with her friend waitress inside. The topic was about a woman on the brink of her execution for making a deadly drug. Opium it was called, that had spread out in most of the towns in their district.

He looked around. People walked from all directions. Some stopped over to converse with colleagues; others do their own businesses. He didn't seem to care; his eyes set at a poster of some outlaw using a giant Zanba and with a huge bounty under his head. Not until his attention was caught by a commotion at a nearby alley. He followed his instincts, taking a move closer to have a look.

A group of men were beating a boy accusing him for theft. Kenshin observed; the boy somehow looked familiar to him. One man holding a sword prepared to strike. Kenshin drew his sword, a motion he need not to exert his effort, a motion he has lived his entirety. He swung with certainty within a moment's range, until before his eyes the man's sword was cut into half. The man, cowered by the defeat, fled. The boy, after gratitude, walked away.

Kenshin, on his part, remained still. He stared at the sword he held, a sword he felt estranged. The well polished metal reflected his face. He saw something different. There was something missing and it was one thing he was sure of. A single line drew from below his left eye trailing down to his chin with a smooth streak.

Only one.

§

The sun was setting. The streak of its rays blushed the sky. It was for a short period of time the woman realized he was nowhere around. A certain intuition was within her as she trailed the streets and turned to a corner until before the abandoned doujo. She was right; he was there.

He stood, facing the house. Before him lay the sword unsheathed. The deadly blade shimmered up to the edge. It was not his sword, his _sakabatou_ he sworn to use to protect people. He knew it by his heart.

'Kenshin.' She started to speak. 'Let's go home.'She moved closer and hugged him at the rear. He could smell the scent of white plums. 'We could be happy...together.' She continued.

'We were. I was.' He answered. 'I owe you. You gave me this.' He held her hand and guided it to his face. She felt his cheek and gave a soft gasp as two noble contours by his firm skin crossed each other. She understood and smiled.

'Thank you.' He closed his eyes, savoring the never felt serenity before, as though a heavy burden was removed from him. The scent of white plums slowly drifted away.

'Kenshin.' the familiar voice made him open his eyes. Blue ones met his.

'Are you alright?' Kaoru was starting to be annoyed. 'You've been standing there for quite some time now, Kenshin.' The others were already at a distance, jovial and content under the coolness summer had offered them.

'Kaoru-dono.'

'What?'

'Let's go home.'


End file.
